Lincoln Faulkner casually plopped himself down on Megan Lucas’s desk and said boldly, “Listen up, let me tell you an ancient story! Do you know why, back in the day, the Buddha Buddha Group smiled while holding a flower?”

With a strange grin, Lincoln Faulkner continued after everyone shook their heads: “There’s a story behind this. It’s said that when the Buddha preached, his words were always enchanting, captivating, able to bring the dead to life and the living to death. But one day, the Buddha didn’t preach. He just held a fresh flower and smiled radiantly. All the disciples, Buddhas, Bodhisattvas, and monks were baffled, except for Mahākāśyapa, who simply smiled in silence. He stepped forward, whispered a few words to the Buddha, and handed him something. The Buddha was overjoyed, left his seat, and didn’t preach that day. The next day, Mahākāśyapa was promoted to head of the Sutra Depository, with a pay raise. You know, the pilgrimage to the West for scriptures was a national-level diplomatic mission. Dozens of delegations from various countries would often come to pay for a look. The head of the Sutra Depository was a hot position, coveted by countless Bodhisattvas and Arhats. Not only could you make connections with foreign dignitaries, but it was also great for your political future. Plus, you’d receive countless gifts from foreign friends. The most famous of these was the golden alms bowl given by the Tang Dynasty’s envoy, the monk Xuanzang.”

“Someone later asked Mahākāśyapa how he could have such insight, to actually guess the Buddha’s innermost thoughts. Mahākāśyapa replied: ‘The night before, I saw that monkey Sun Wukong invite the Buddha to eat hotpot at Little Sheep in Australia. Think about it, the Buddha’s stomach was used to being vegetarian—how could he handle such greasy delicacies? Sure enough, the next day, the Buddha had a stomachache while on the podium. But all he could find nearby were the flowers and fruits offered by the disciples. How could those be used? The Buddha was a very shy and proper person—how could he say in public, “These flowers are too small, not enough to wipe with—does anyone have a big banana leaf for me?” So he could only hint to everyone by holding a flower and smiling. But I beat everyone to it and offered a roll of premium toilet paper.’ All the Arhats and Bodhisattvas suddenly understood.”

By the time Lincoln Faulkner finished, the classroom was already filled with hissing and booing, and the girls couldn’t hold back their crisp laughter. Any awkwardness from not seeing each other over the summer had completely vanished.

Just as he was getting into it, Lincoln Faulkner suddenly heard Jack Martin, sitting by the door, call out in a strange tone, “Lincoln Faulkner! Someone’s looking for you… heh heh!”

Seeing his old friend Jack Martin grinning lewdly, Lincoln Faulkner couldn’t help but mutter to himself as he walked toward the classroom door, cursing inwardly, “Who’s so shy? If you’re looking for me, just come in and call me directly—why all the mystery? Even had to get Jack Martin to pass the message.”

Judging by Jack Martin’s expression, Lincoln Faulkner knew it had to be a girl. But as for who, he had no idea. He’d been too focused on mocking the Buddha just now to notice who was at the door.

Lincoln Faulkner walked out of the classroom, and before he could even look around, a thick envelope was handed to him.

“Your mail. I happened to be at school during the summer, so I picked it up for you. Now that school’s started, I brought it to you.”

“Huh! It’s you?”

Lincoln Faulkner wasn’t surprised to have mail, but he was very surprised by who delivered it.

He attended No. 1 High School, with eight classes in the second year. The pretty girls had long been ranked by the “wolf pack,” and Yvonne Dean was one of them. Yvonne Dean was the type of girl who was usually very proud, and Lincoln Faulkner had never had a chance to get close to her.

Today, Yvonne Dean seemed to have dressed up a little, though she still wore her usual simple style, with no flashy accessories. A light yellow dress just past her knees showed off her fair calves. On her feet were delicate sandals, revealing her pearly toes. Her shoulder-length black hair was tied into a ponytail, making her pretty face look even more delicate.

But judging by Yvonne Dean’s expression, she didn’t seem very friendly. Lincoln Faulkner quickly said, “Thank you!” without daring to say more, and hurriedly took the mail. Yvonne Dean was famous at school for being cold and indifferent to boys, and Lincoln Faulkner didn’t want to embarrass himself. Jokes depend on the person and the mood.

For once, Lincoln Faulkner was being serious, but the classroom behind him was already buzzing with whispers and gossip.

“Wow! When did Old Faulkner manage to win over Yvonne Dean from Class Six? And such a thick stack—must be a collection of love letters!”

“Not necessarily. Maybe it’s Old Faulkner’s contract of servitude. Looks like he’s sold all his rights for ten lifetimes.”

Through the crack in the door, who knows how many people were speculating about what Yvonne Dean had given Lincoln Faulkner.

Lincoln Faulkner always prided himself on having thick skin, claiming he’d rank high even worldwide. But hearing these comments, he still felt his face burning. Yvonne Dean snorted coldly, her expression changing, and turned to leave. That look of disdain almost made Lincoln Faulkner want to sink into the floor.

“Damn! Can’t you all be a little kinder? It’s just a letter, and the mailing address is—Canada. What! How could it be from abroad?”

Glancing at the mail, Lincoln Faulkner was stunned. He racked his brains but couldn’t remember ever having a foreign friend.